


No Cure for the Common Cold

by jedisapphire



Series: Dean Hates Witches [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, HC Bingo, Hurt Sam Winchester, Minor Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisapphire/pseuds/jedisapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A run-down Sam falls victim to a normal illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cure for the Common Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the prompt "Minor Illness or Injury".
> 
> Many thanks to nygirl7of9 for the beta.

“Look at it this way,” Dean says. “At least you know there’s nothing supernatural about this.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, trying to glare at him and looking like a pouting toddler. “That’s really nice to know.”  
  
Except that, with his cold, it ends up sounding like  _Dat’s weally dice to dow_  and Dean bursts out laughing. It only makes Sam glare harder, which makes him look  _more_ like a baby who’s just been fed a lemon, which makes Dean laugh even more, and, yeah vicious cycle. Really  _awesome_ vicious cycle.  
  
“Sorry,” Dean gasps, when at last he has himself under a semblance of control. If Sam’s continuing bitchface is anything to go by, he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s just, you have no idea what a  _relief_ this is. A cold is something we can  _deal_ with. A cold is something  _I_ can deal with. As long as I can see you and talk to you, we can deal with anything.”  
  
Sam’s face softens.  
  
“Here,” Dean says, thrusting a spoonful of cough syrup into his mouth before he can start a chick-flick moment.  
  
Sam grimaces as he swallows it. “Gross.”  
  
“Tough. It’s good for you.”  
  
He starts tucking the blankets tighter around Sam. Sam’s already wrapped up snug, because Dean’s had plenty of experience dealing with a sick and shivering little brother and he knows the most important thing is to make sure a cold doesn’t turn into something worse. For all that Sam tries to eat healthy and exercise, the hunting lifestyle is terrible for your immune system.  
  
“You good?” he asks when he’s done.  
  
Sam gazes pathetically up at him. Dean laughs again. If it were serious, Sam would be in denial, telling Dean about how he’s  _fine_ and  _of course I’m ready to hunt, Dean_ and  _oh, come on, it’s just a tiny bit of blood_. Having him all clingy and opening his mouth for the thermometer means he’s not seriously ill.   
  
He is, however, clearly angling for some fussing-over, and he’s had a rough enough week that Dean decides to give it to him.  
  
“I’ll make you some of that herbal tea you claim is full of antioxidants, or Vitamin C, or whatever it is,” Dean says. “Drink it, and then if you’re awake enough I’ll read to you.”  
  
Sam brightens at once. By the time Dean’s finished steeping the tea he’s sitting up in bed and holding out his hands for the cup. He drinks it so quickly Dean’s compelled to tell him to slow down before he burns his tongue. Dean’s not going anywhere.  
  
“Good boy,” Dean says when Sam’s done. Sam beams, and Dean wishes it were always this easy to make Sam happy. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Shut your eyes.”  
  
Sam obeys. Dean quickly riffles through his duffel for the hardcover, full-colour copy of  _Winnie-the-Pooh_ that he picked up at a used book sale in the last town they passed through. He puts it in Sam’s hands.   
  
“Open your eyes.”  
  
Sam does, and his smile turns about a hundred times brighter when he sees the book. He makes a little squeaky sound that Dean would find hilarious if he weren’t too busy feeling like Superman for putting that look on Sam’s face.   
  
“Scoot over,” Dean says.  
  
Sam scoots. As soon as Dean’s made himself comfortable on the bed, Sam’s back, settling into the crook of Dean’s arm. Dean can’t find it in himself to object.  
  
“ _Here is Edward Bear_ ,” he begins, “ _coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump._ ”  
  
By the time he gets to the bees and the honey Sam’s asleep. But that’s OK. Dean’ll read him the rest of the book later.


End file.
